


Such A Dirty Mind (I Always Get It Up For the Touch of the Inked Kind)

by AlysanneBlackwood



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (sort of), Developing Relationship, Embarrassment, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Tattoos, Teasing, Tozer isn't wearing a shirt and Little has Feelings about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlysanneBlackwood/pseuds/AlysanneBlackwood
Summary: In which Little sees Tozer shirtless, Tozer has tattoos, and Little has, shall we say, Certain Feelings about both the shirtlessness and tattoos.
Relationships: Lt Edward Little/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19
Collections: Lieutenant and Sergeant Gift Exchange





	Such A Dirty Mind (I Always Get It Up For the Touch of the Inked Kind)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherrytart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytart/gifts).



> The title comes from "My Sharona" by The Knack (with one word changed; "younger" has become "inked"), because I started listening to it on repeat whilst writing. If you desire any musical accompaniment whilst reading, I suggest the aforementioned song, "T.V. Eye" by the Stooges, or "Brick House" by the Commodores.

Thank  _ God  _ for this silence! It was the kind of silence where you could lean your head against the wall, close your eyes, and allow yourself to creep closer than ever before to melting down into an exhausted, miserable pile of skin and bone. True, you couldn’t melt down into an exhausted, miserable pile of skin and bone (though Edward was getting less and less certain of that with each passing day), but being this close to it was better than trying to stave off the feeling, which required more and more effort every time it seized hold of him. He had become certain, in the past week (or was it a fortnight? Now that it was winter the days and nights ran into each other in an endless stream of dark and cold), that the only thing keeping him from collapsing or going utterly mad was the lack of knowledge as to whether he would be captain of  _ Terror  _ in name as well as in practice once the spring came. Only if Captain Crozier recovered could he afford the relief of going mad.

“Get Dr Macdonald.”

Edward was at such a point that he would have considered ignoring the command if not for its urgent tone. He opened his eyes to see Mr Jopson standing in the doorway of the captain’s cabin, his face so drained of blood that, to Edward’s tired eyes, it looked more transparent than white. “Did you hear me? I said to--” He stopped, his eyes moving from side to side in their usual quick fashion; Edward realised he was taking him in and lowered his head. The absolute last thing Mr Jopson needed was to be worrying about anyone who wasn’t Captain Crozier.

“I heard,” he said, trying and failing to remember the last time he had seen himself in a glass. “I’ll tell him to come.” He turned and walked out of the mess room, down the passage to the sickbay, praying that Macdonald hadn’t been called over to  _ Erebus,  _ because if he had, Edward wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t simply curl up on the ice and cry.

Thankfully for his well-being, Dr Macdonald  _ was _ present in the sickbay, but busy with Sergeant Tozer for something Edward couldn’t quite see. “Keep it tight,” he was saying, “and it should begin to close by the end of the week.” 

“Mr Jopson called for you,” Edward said, not bothering with making his presence known; there was no time for that now. Macdonald turned his head and, seeing who had spoken, nodded. 

“You can finish this yourself?” he asked Sergeant Tozer, who said that he could. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” and he set off at a hurried clip.

Edward had been watching Tozer’s eyes, searching for any hint of suspicion within them as he and Macdonald spoke. Now that he was gone--

Good _ LORD. _

_ Look at the floor. For God’s sake, look at the floor, or at the ceiling, or at the wall, or out the door, or anywhere else. Not at him, damn you, not at him, and not at that tattoo behind his shoulder, which you are most certainly NOT going to imagine tracing the outline of with your tongue. You haven’t even said a word and here you are already making yourself ridiculous. _

At least the blood in his cheeks warmed him. Then again, the blood in his cheeks might have been perfectly well able to bring a stew to a boil. This was maddening: staring at the cracks between his feet, blushing worse than any schoolboy caught doing shameful things to himself by a scowling house-master, somehow totally undone by a five seconds’ glimpse of bare flesh. It was maddening and, he thought (a little petulantly), plainly unfair. Oh, God, if anyone were to see him like this. He’d lose every last drop of respect he commanded.

“Do you have nowhere to be, Lieutenant?”

Edward forced himself to raise his head and meet Tozer’s gaze, but it was not three seconds before his traitorous eyes started edging downwards to try and make out what the dark ink beside his left shoulder blade represented. He was not a stranger to seeing those who had chosen to make a canvas of their bodies, but now for the life of him he could not stop peering at it, or noticing the others down and across Tozer’s back, or the one that twined vine-like around his left arm. His face managed to burn even hotter. _Why_ was this happening? Whatever had he done to deserve this -- this terrible _(wonderful,_ a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he snapped at it to shut up) distraction?

“You’re not ill, are you, sir?”

“No,” Edward ground out from between his teeth.  _ Yes, you are,  _ the insinuating little voice said, louder now, and far too cheerful.  _ You are very ill, in fact; sick with a terrible, raging, but quite curable LUST-- _

_ You shut up! _

“Then why are you still here?” Edward managed to look at Tozer’s face again. There was a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. He knows, Edward realised, and then he really did feel slightly ill. But here was a perfect opportunity to leave. He could say good-bye and walk out this very instant, for Tozer was right: there was no reason for him to still be in this room. But there was no way to remember anything else he had to do with all of that skin right in front of him, and Tozer had made no move to dress. He was still standing in the exact spot he had been in when Macdonald had left the room, a bandage wrapped tight above his trousers. Edward wondered if there was anything more concealed by that bandage. More tattoos, or scars, or even a stud in the navel (now what would  _ that  _ taste like? Oh, for Heaven’s sake, man.  _ Be decent!).  _ For a brief, awful-delightful moment, he imagined crossing the room -- one, two, three steps -- unwinding the cloth, and feasting his eyes on whatever riches lay beneath. 

Perhaps he had gone utterly mad after all, without even noticing it. Did you generally notice when you were going mad? 

“Lieutenant.” There was humour in Tozer’s voice. “I’m beginning to think you should stay here after all. You might keel over from a lack of circulation.”

Edward’s tongue seemed to fill up his entire mouth. “I’m -- I’m only -- I’m not--”

“Not staring at me fit to beat Mr Darcy?” Tozer had turned fully around to face Edward now, who looked down again. The back had been bad enough; if he gave himself a moment before looking at the chest, he might be able to beat it in this dreadful game for his sanity.  _ You are a grown man, not a boy on his first visit to the docks. You are the First Lieutenant of a ship in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, and moreover, you’re the acting captain of said ship, and you are going to act like it, and you will not, do you hear me, NOT melt into a puddle at the sight of another man’s bare chest! _

He looked up. Tozer was unequivocally grinning at him: a mirthful, cunning smile. “You like the look of me, don’t you?”

Edward said nothing, struggling to keep his eyes on the wall behind Tozer, forcing them forwards the very second he found them sliding back towards the chest. Which was about every three seconds.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re working yourself up about. Truthfully…” Tozer paused, letting his last word hang in the air for a moment. “Truthfully, I don’t mind you looking at me. I like it.”

If he had been less concerned with maintaining the decency he felt slipping through his fingers, or if they had been somewhere else, somewhere properly private, Edward might have taken that last phrase as an invitation to let go of his embarrassment. (And, since honesty is a virtue, find a way to slip down the orlop.) As it was, he wasn’t sure whether he should apologise or burst out laughing until he wept. In so plainly attempting modesty he had made himself brazen, and now like had been met with like. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely fair, but it might be just a little expected. Edward had overheard Tozer speaking with his fellow Marines, and from what he’d picked up he knew that the sergeant wasn’t inclined towards keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself, whatever they were. He was forthright -- a quality which Edward both admired and worried over.

“So,” Tozer all but drawled, and Edward felt the blood in his face, which had just begun to ease off, hurry back to its previous location. “What is it about me you’ve been looking at  _ particularly?” _

_ Well, everything, really; you see, it may seem as if I’m dying of embarrassment or shame, but in truth, I am dying of the sickness known as DESIRE and you’re the only one who can cure it, and I will beg on my knees if you want me to so we can-- _

_ IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I’LL SMOTHER YOU,  _ Edward shouted, cutting off the insinuating voice’s triumphant return. He met Tozer’s gaze once again, steeling himself to keep it. “Nothing in particular.”

“Really, Lieutenant?” Tozer’s eyes narrowed, and a second grin pulled at the right corner of his mouth. He turned, once again facing away. “You’re sure it’s not these? I would’ve thought it impossible, in your line of work, for you to have never seen anything like them before.”

“Of course I’ve seen things like that before,” Edward retorted hotly, not feeling the slightest bit guilty for his tone. Honestly, did Tozer think him an innocent, or a fool to dally with? He might not know Edward’s past work, but he certainly knew that one didn’t usually become First Lieutenant by spending all their time in the company of unmarked ladies!

(Probably not an innocent, but if he thought him a fool, Edward had to admit, he wasn’t wrong, given the spectacle Edward had been making of himself.)

_ Ah, to be dallied with!  _ cried the voice, and he couldn’t help but groan aloud as his eyes once more tugged their way over to stare at Tozer’s back. “Shall I come closer,” Tozer asked, his tone mischievous, speaking so suddenly that Edward didn’t have the time (or the will, or even the general desire, really) to look up at his face, “so you can see them more clearly?”

Yeses and nos alike shouted over each other to be heard at the forefront of Edward’s mind, so he kept silent again. Tozer let out a choked laugh, which Edward couldn’t blame himself for, seeing as he had surely progressed from looking a fool to looking an idiot. “Well?” he asked lightly. “I’m waiting for an answer, Lieutenant.”

Edward swallowed and saw three paths to take. He could say “yes” (and who knew what might follow), say “no” (and tell himself he had done the right thing whilst regretting it), or bolt out of the room (and solidify his status as a fool  _ and  _ an idiot). His head was starting to ache, and he was still tired; even more so since he’d started worrying himself into this frenzy. Why did he have to care this much? Why now, of all times, when he wanted nothing more than to find the ability to let go of care and worry for just a few moments? If he could stop thinking, break out of his mind only for a second -- if he could just say the first word that came to his lips without examining it first--

“Yes.” He was crossing the room: one, two, three steps, and he was standing directly behind him.

“I never took you for such a forward man.” 

“I’m not often one.” He could feel his shoulders loosening, his face cooling, his breath coming easier; it was so good to speak plainly. Even if he couldn’t share all that he wished he could, it was still far, far better than holing up inside of himself. 

“Yes, I’ve seen how you try not to be,” Tozer quipped, and Edward felt his mouth crack into a smile, nearly an unfamiliar sensation. 

“You--” He paused and took a breath. “You really don’t mind my looking so much?”

“Not when looks like yours are scarce. It’s not a terrible thing, to know how much you’re wanted.”

In spite of his resolution to get out of himself, Edward’s face grew hot. Tozer, looking over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me it’s only going to be my questions again.”

“No! No, it’s not. Only you wouldn’t mind me asking about some of them?” He felt rather ridiculous even asking, but the way Tozer’s eyebrow dropped and his expression lit up, enthusiasm filling his eyes, brought on a surge of something to Edward’s chest. It took a second to place what it was.

Oh. Warmth. Real warmth, not the unbearable heat that came with being ashamed.

“Do you know,” Tozer asked, turning fully around to face him, “how long I’ve been waiting for someone to suggest a subject that hasn’t got to do with--” He spread his fingers, indicating the room. “All of  _ this?” _

A laugh broke into the air. Me, Edward realised, that was  _ me,  _ and before he could think any further, he was leaning against the nearest wall, his head bent in nearly uncontrollable laughter. “Do  _ you  _ know, Sergeant,” he managed to gasp out, “how long  _ I’ve  _ been waiting to talk about anything that isn’t all of this? I can’t even make myself think of anything else when I’m alone.” 

Tozer had joined his laughter, and for a relieving moment they stood there, laughing at neither of them knew quite what (perhaps themselves, perhaps the horrific absurdity (or absurd horror) of this winter’s situation), but when the moment passed, Tozer spoke again. “You really want to know about some of them?”

“Yes,” Edward replied earnestly, for there truly was a part of him that was curious, and not simply exhausted of thinking on the present.

“Well…” Tozer cleared his throat as Edward circled around to stand behind him. “That one behind my shoulder’s not much. All I could think of at the time was my initials.” (This was the one the tongue-tracing-fantasy had been about. It crossed Edward’s mind, and whilst this time he didn’t push it away, he knew it would be hardly appropriate to enact it presently, however much he wanted to.) “One on my arm’s a dragon.” Edward peered closer, resisting the urge to run his hand along it. Touch did not seem proper at this point in their acquaintance.

“The cook on the  _ Donegal  _ had one like that,” he said, remembering the man. “He’d get hot standing by the oven all the time, so he’d take off his shirt and everyone could see it -- this dragon taking up his entire chest and stomach. He called it his fiercest protector.”

“I had a mate like that when I was a private,” Tozer said, grinning. “His was a bear’s head. Every time he got undressed you’d see this enormous set of teeth spread across his chest. I had to pity anyone who went to bed with him not knowing about it first. I think he named it, but I don’t remember what.”

Seven bells rang, and Edward recalled that he was on deck for the next half-hour. Reluctantly, he stepped away. “I’ve got the next watch.”

“Right.” Tozer reached for his clothing. “I should get back to  _ Erebus.”  _ The teasing lilt crept back into his voice. “I suppose you’re busy here, but if you want to know about the rest of them, I’m sure you could find a reason to speak to Captain Fitzjames.”

“Indeed I could,” Edward replied, and a thrill ran up his back at his own coyness. They were of one mind, it seemed to him, and from this point on anything might happen between them. Tozer nodded and, having finished buttoning his coat, crossed the room before stopping at the door.

“Thank you,” he said warmly. “I needed to speak with someone like that.”

“So did I.” It had been a rather aimless conversation between them, to be sure -- tattoos were hardly the most viable of subjects -- but aimlessness was a luxury no one could afford this winter. It had to be stolen in the occasional moment. For nearly ten minutes, he had been able to let his duties and his worries slip his mind. He had smiled; had laughed, when he had almost forgotten how his laughter had sounded. More specifically, Sergeant Tozer had made him laugh, and for that, a new affection now tinged the earlier attraction. “Thank you. Good afternoon, Sergeant.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” Tozer gave him one last smile, bright and a little wicked, the kind that made him just a touch weak in the knees. Edward smiled back, hoping his own conveyed the same.

He waited until Tozer disappeared down the passage. Then he allowed himself a moment more of lightness, sank back into his thoughts (though not quite so deeply as before) and left the room.


End file.
